Undeserving
by unicorn-skydancer08
Summary: Aslan's children feel unworthy of his love, yet he loves them anyway. Companion to "I Am a Sinner".


**UNDESERVING  
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_After writing "I Am a Sinner", I figured I ought to have another spiritual story to go with it. After a long time, and after a great deal of pondering and writing, I finally had it! This time, more characters will be involved; some of them, you're already familiar with, and then there are some who don't stand out quite as much. If you have any suggestions for whom I should include in this story, feel free to tell me. And since this is a Christian-type story, I would very much appreciate it if you non-Christians kept your flames to yourselves. I won't criticize you, so please don't criticize me.  
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**Characters ****© C.S. Lewis (and, to an extent, Disney and Walden Media and Fox)  
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**Story © unicorn-skydancer08**

**_All rights reserved. _**

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_"He is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither. Whatever he does prospers." _

**~ Psalms 1:3 (NIV)**

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__"All the sharpness and cunning and quarrelsomeness which he had picked up as a London cabby seemed to have been washed away, and the courage and kindness which he had always had were easier to see." _

_**— C.S. Lewis, "The Magician's Nephew" **_**(95)**_**  
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**Part 1: King Frank  
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Narnia's first king stood at the edge of the forest, watching the sun as it sank slowly beyond the horizon, like a ball of fire disappearing into the sea. As a proper castle had not yet been erected, the green wood currently served as his quarters. A cool grove of trees was his noble court, and the Talking Beasts were his royal counselors.

If anyone had told Frank, a common cabman who hailed from London, that he would one day reign as a mighty king, he would have laughed at the lunacy of it all.

Yet here he stood, in the finest robes fit for any king, bearing a splendid crown of gold on his brow, with an entire domain under his control. Everyone admired and respected him; whenever his presence was revealed, all knees would bow to him, and the air would ring with choruses of: "_Hail, King Frank! Long live the King!_" Frank would never have believed such a thing possible, had he not seen nor heard it for himself. Even now, at this very moment, he could still hardly believe it. He certainly had always wanted to influence others, in a positive way.

But now, the weight of responsibility that rested on his shoulders was almost overwhelming.

Who was he, to lead these people? Who was he to direct them, judge them, reconcile them, and protect them?

It seemed a burden greater than he could hold; he felt too weak, too inept, too ill-prepared.

Frank sighed deeply, and bowed his head to his chest. As beautiful and wondrous as Narnia was, as much as he loved it here, he wished he were home, in London. He wished he could resume his much simpler life, as a cabby. He wanted to hear the sounds of hoofbeats on cobblestones again, the idle chatter of the passerby. He longed to take up his rein and whip again, to do nothing more demanding than driving people here and there to wherever they needed to be, and come home at the end of the day to a lovely supper prepared by his wife, Helen.

Furthermore, why would Aslan put his trust in someone like _him? _He was nobody special, after all. He had no experience as king; he came from no royal bloodline.

He was not strong, brave, or clever in any way. He was just a man, and a bad one at that. He made far too many mistakes. He couldn't even begin to number all the things he had said and done throughout his life that were not right. Compared to Aslan, who resembled everything true and pure, he felt lowly, even filthy—like a squalid beggar before a divine being.

_Unworthy…sinful…depraved…corrupt…_

These, along with a number of other unpleasant words, resounded through Frank's head like the ominous tolls of a bell, sharpening his guilt, weighing increasingly heavier on his heart. Almost without realizing it, Frank dropped to his knees in the grass, paying little heed to the tears that had already begun to pour down his face.

His whole body began to tremble uncontrollably, like a fragile leaf, and he covered his face with his hands and started to weep like a child.

"_Aslan._" Whether he'd spoken the name with his tongue, or with his heart, he could not be sure.

"Frank, my son," a soothing voice sounded abruptly in his ears. "Why are you weeping?"

With a gasp, Frank dropped his hands from his face and lifted his streaming eyes at once to discover none other than Aslan, the Great King himself, standing right there beside him. His golden mane shone splendidly in the setting sun, almost like a heavenly aura. His timeless, unchanging yellow eyes regarded the smaller human king with great concern, and profound love.

"Aslan," said Frank, in a hushed, awestruck voice, unable to rise from his knees, unable move at all from the spot, though his tears continued to flow steadily. "You're here."

"I am always here," Aslan reassured him gently. "Even when you cannot see me, do you believe I truly leave my children alone?"

At a loss for words, Frank could only remain where he was, feeling incredibly small and pathetic compared to Aslan's majesty and perfection.

"I have waited these many days and weeks for you to call upon me," said Aslan, at length. His voice softened considerably as he continued, "Tell me, what is it you would have of me?" Seeing the tears that glittered in Frank's eyes and on his rough cheeks, the Lion repeated his first question from before. "Why do you weep, my son? What troubles your heart?"

Unsure of where to begin, Frank faltered for a time before he managed to sputter, "Aslan…sir…I…well…it's…it's all _wrong_."

"What is wrong?"

Somehow, Frank knew that Aslan knew the answer already, but the Lion still wanted him to say it for himself.

"Aslan—why _me?_ How can you expect someone like _me_ to govern Narnia? Why not get someone better to do this, someone who is actually deserving of such a position?"

"Do you think I would have granted you the title of king, if I didn't think you deserved it?" Aslan gave him a knowing look.

"But, Aslan," Frank protested, "what good can I do? I'm not worthy. I'm no better off than my own people."

"Yes, that is true," Aslan admitted. "A king is no more valuable than his subjects."

Fresh tears began to spill forth as Frank blurted in despair, "How can you even be sure you've chosen the right one, Aslan?_ You're_ the true king of Narnia; I'm just a cabman."

He plunged his face into his hands. "I can't do this," he moaned. "I don't deserve this. I'm not fit to do this."

"Is that what you truly believe, my son?" said Aslan, his voice dropped to barely a whisper.

Slowly lifting his tormented face to the Lion's, Frank said mournfully, "You treat me like someone I'm not, Aslan. You love me more than I deserve, and you trust me far more than I can bear."

Aslan regarded the Son of Adam with almost unspeakable compassion in his fathomless eyes. That look alone seemed to melt Frank's very bones. "Frank, my beloved child," the Lion crooned, lowering his head to the poor man's level, and nuzzling him with the sweetness of a feather, "do you think I don't know your heart? Do you think I don't know just what you are capable of? Do you think I don't know your strengths, along with your weaknesses? I know you will be a fine king, my son. I knew it, long before I placed that crown on your head."

"But, I—" Frank started to protest, but Aslan was far from finished.

"If you were truly insufficient, I would never have bestowed this burden upon you to begin with. You have the potential, but you must be able to see and recognize that potential for yourself. As for love and trust, I love you, the way a father loves his children; and I trust you to be the best man you can be…and that best in you is good enough. Do you doubt me, son?"

"_I'm_ the one that I doubt, Aslan," Frank answered hoarsely.

"If you try with your whole heart, then how can you fail? It is only when you truly cease to try that you truly come to nothing."

Frank closed his eyes, feeling these infinitely wise words reach inside him and gently loosen the iron clutch of self-doubt.

While the sense of guilt yet lingered, it slowly began to soften, like snow melting in the sun.

"Trust me, my son," Aslan went on, in an even more loving tone, were such a thing possible. "Obey my commandments. Do not place your confidence in mere men, or in those whose deeds are evil. Live your life with honor, in unselfish service to your people. Let love and faith guide your actions, and you shall be a great king, indeed—a legend that will last through the ages."

By the time Frank finally opened his eyes again, Aslan was already gone from sight, as though vanished into thin air. But Frank could feel the Lion's presence in his heart, like a living flame. While tears yet flooded his face, this time they fell for an entirely different reason. He no longer felt weak, but strong with a strength that was not his own.

As the former cabman rose to his feet once more, he lifted his head and held it high, with regal dignity.

He made a solemn vow to himself, there and then, that he would do everything in his power to live up to the title he had received.

He was a king, thus he would live and act like one.

Now was the time to begin.

Drawing in a deep breath of the clean, sweet Narnian air, Frank set out to find Helen, so that he could tell her what just took place, and, perchance, help her learn and understand also.


End file.
